


5 Times Nicky Kept Joe Silent (And One Time He Didn't Care)

by Imoshen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Joe, Bottom Nicky, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Mention of rimming, Mostly Pwp, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Top Nicky, Topping from the Bottom, handjobs, kinkmeme fill, slight D/s undertones, top joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: Joe has a tendency to get loud in bed (or outside of it). Nicky usually manages to keep him silent, but sometimes he doesn't care.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 69
Kudos: 404





	1. East Berlin, German Democratic Republic

**Author's Note:**

> kinkmeme fill for [this prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=840118#cmt840118).
> 
> I'm mrsimoshen on tumblr.

Someone with too much power and bad ideas needs to die, and it has to happen in a way that means the powder keg of politics that is Europe will not explode and ruin the rest of this century, too.

Which is why Nicolò di Genova and Yusuf al-Kaysani are hiding in a tiny excuse for a room, left over from the last remodeling of the building. There’s several of those cramped spaces, but they picked this one because it has a window and it’s highest up in the building, thus accessible from the roof if you don’t have to worry about not surviving a potential six-story-fall, and pretty much everyone seems to have forgotten it even exists. They crawled in before dawn, making use of the change of the guard personnel, and they’ll have to wait until the building is all but empty except for their target to move. The man has a well-known history for working late hours, and while his office is located in such a way that it’s almost impossible for a sniper to reach… well, they’re not exactly afraid of getting their hands dirty up close and personal.

All this means they’ve been cooped up in a tiny room for hours already, carefully arranged between their gear. There’s just enough room for one of them to stretch out and they’re taking turns leaning against the wall. It leaves a lot of time for daydreaming, and when Joseph looks up from his sketch of Nicky, he swallows.

There’s a certain gleam in Nicky’s eyes Joseph knows only too well, and he’d be lying if he said his blood didn’t heat at the mere sight of it. He presses his back against the hard wood behind him and widens his stance to keep standing, and he would swear any oath that the temperature in the narrow wall closet has suddenly spiked by several degrees.

Nicky grins at him and unfolds himself from his seating position. There’s not much room to cross, just a single step really, but he manages to make it look predatory. Joseph closes his sketchbook and carefully sets it down just as Nicky reaches him. “I’m bored,” he whispers, fingers already working on the buttons of Joseph’s shirt. His hands, when they slide in to touch Joseph’s skin, are burning and Joseph sucks in a breath and does his best to keep his wits.

“We have a job to do, Nicky.”

“Mmhmm.” Nicky crowds him against the wall, it’s not that difficult with how little room there is to begin with, and kisses him. Joseph isn't fool enough to refuse any kiss Nicky will give him, not from that very first one they shared, when he was still half-convinced he’d feel the cold metal of Nicolò’s dagger between his ribs next. Right now, hot hands are stroking up and down those same ribs, then glide to his back as Nicky sucks Joseph’s lower lip between his teeth and gives it a soft bite. Joseph swallows his groan.

“It’ll be hours yet before we can move,” the man he has given his heart to murmurs against his ear, hot breath stroking his neck. “Think you can keep silent this time, amore mio?”

Oh, _fuck_ , Nicky is in _that_ kind of mood. Joseph’s cock goes from _interested_ to _fuck yes_ so fast he feels a little dizzy for a second, and Nicky knows it, of course he does, pressed to Joseph’s front as he is. There’s a little chuckle that vibrates against Joseph’s chest, and then Nicky is rearranging him to his preference, and Joseph has been conditioned long ago to do as his lover pleases when he’s in that sort of mood. It always ends well for him.

“No promises,” he rasps out, a belated answer to Nicky’s question as he leans against the wall on his forearms, hands flat against the smooth wood. His skin feels too hot, his clothes too restrictive, and he yearns for Nicky’s skin against his even as Nicky’s hands go to work on his belt, then his fly. Joseph gasps out relief when his cock is finally freed from all that fabric, but he doesn’t dare look down to watch Nicky’s hand wrap around him. There’s only so much a man can take.

The fingers rubbing up and down his cleft are wet, and Joseph has just enough brain cells left to wonder if Nicky sucked them wet or if the light of his eyes brought lube to a job. He tries to decide which option is hotter, and then his brain cells stop cooperating because Nicky is pushing into him with those wet fingers, slow but unrelenting, and Joseph’s body is accepting the intrusion with the ease of long familiarity as his brain tries to catch up.

He’s distantly aware he’s already panting for breath and his hairline is damp with sweat, and then Nicky starts to actually work him open, and Joseph bites his lip hard enough to taste blood in order to keep quiet. Nicky laughs against his neck.

Joseph is pretty sure someone has meddled with the flow of time, because he could swear Nicky takes hours to play with him, slide his fingers in and out of his body leisurely as you please, slick and familiar, and Joe very nearly moans out loud when two become three somewhere along the way, stretching him deliciously further. He’s about to break and beg when those fingers finally slip free, leaving him wet and open an _empty_. Joseph whines.

“Hush, caro mio.” Nicky’s voice has dropped and roughened, and it sends a shiver up Joseph’s back that’s completely unrelated to how much he wants his cock inside him, _now_. “Remember, keep quiet.”

Joseph must have given some kind of answer, but it’s not something he’s consciously aware of. Not when Nicky’s cock pushes into him, sets him on fire with how good it feels to be filled and claimed by this man. After nearly a thousand years together, one thinks he might be used to the sensation, but it sets him aflame anew, every single time. Joseph breathes and clings to the wall.

Nicky’s famous patience must have worn thin, too, because he barely gives Joseph enough time to suck in a few breaths before he’s moving, falling into a rhythm that Joseph knows from long (and cherished) experience is going to ruin him.

He needs both hands pressed against the wall to keep himself upright and to keep from faceplanting into the wall at this point, staring at the wood without seeing anything, his entire being concentrated on Nicky’s hands on his hips, Nicky’s cock fucking him so perfectly, Nicky’s voice in his ear, whispering utter filth.

“Please,” he manages on an exhale, gasps in another breath. His cock is so hard it aches, and he could come just from this, but he wants _more_. “Please, Nicolò, please…”

“Sì,” Nicky purrs into his ear, and on his next thrust in the angle is different, sparking white-hot fire in Joseph’s veins. He moans, can’t help himself, and Nicky’s hand clamps down over his mouth, strong and capable.

“Lost again,” his lover rasps against Joseph’s throat, but Joseph couldn’t care less. Moans muffled behind Nicky’s palm, he begs for it harder, faster, lost in the pleasure Nicky drowns him in so effortlessly. He’s not even aware how close he is until Nicky’s other hand closes around his cock again, but all it takes are a few strokes and Nicky’s cock hitting that perfect spot within him on every thrust to make Joseph come, his release streaking over Nicky’s hand and the wall in front of them.

He’s dimly aware of Nicky gasping out a curse, and hot wetness coating his insides, and vaguely mourns the fact that he couldn’t watch his love take his pleasure. Something for next time, then.


	2. Val d'Argent, France

The desert around them is dark and quiet, and the night sky above them endless and dotted with gleaming stars.

Nicolò is a warm weight behind Yusuf, his arm around Yusuf’s waist as they rest on the sand, their little fire burning merrily away in front of them. The night is beginning to grow cold in the way only a desert night can be, but Yusuf isn’t feeling the cold despite being bare to the skin beneath their blankets.

Nicolò is kissing his neck, his jaw, trails along the edge of Yusuf’s beard. Sometimes, he will bite a little, and the sting goes straight to Yusuf’s cock where it lies abandoned, hard against his thigh.

Yusuf wants to touch it, badly. But Nicolò whispered “Let me”, into his ear, the Arabic still bearing a hint of his accent, and Yusuf can deny him nothing. So he keeps one hand wrapped around Nicolò’s wrist, and the fingers of the other dug into the sand, and lets himself be rocked by the gentle motion of Nicolò’s hips.

If he had known the man was so talented with his cock, Yusuf would have made it his mission to seduce him far earlier, he thinks with a moan as Nicolò pushes deep – and he wakes with a gasp, his body on fire and his thoughts muddled and confused. The remains of his dream still cling to him, confusing him even further because reality is so close to his dream and at the same time so very different. It makes him slow to gain his bearings… well, slower. He’s never at his best just after waking, there’s a reason Nicky is the one sleeping with his hand on a gun.

Nicky’s hands are not on a gun right now.

Joe’s hips buck into Nicky’s hand, his moan muffled by his lover’s palm, and Nicky chuckles behind him and reels him in again until he’s flush to Nicky’s front. “Shhh, be quiet,” is whispered into his ear. “Andy will kill us if we wake her.”

Nicky’s hand never stops stroking Joe’s cock, twisting on the downstroke exactly the way he _knows_ strips all reason from Joe until he’s a mindless, needy mess. Joe whines into his lover’s palm and leans into Nicky’s warmth, his strength. He has no idea how long Nicky has been playing with him while he slept, and he doesn’t care. Nicky can do with him whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and Joe will thank him for it and ask for more.

He’d dreamed of their early years, nights they spent much like this. Joe is always the one who feels the cold more acutely than Nicky, so the place in front of the fire had been his as soon as Nicolò realized his shivering was from being miserably cold. Sleeping around a fire in the abandoned mine again, even with a nest made of bedding and sleeping bags and thin insulating mattresses between them and the ground, seems to have prodded his brain into giving him a trip down memory lane. Joe wonders for a second if Nicky had similar dreams, or if Joe woke him up by squirming back into him and Nicky just took charge.

Nile shifts in her pile of bedding across the fire, and Joe tenses, tries to be still – but Nicky keeps stroking him, merciless bastard that he is, and adds a swipe of his thumb over Joe’s slit. Joe barely manages to swallow his moan, a ghost of it brushing against Nicky’s hand where it’s still clamped over his mouth.

“I was thinking I’d just jerk you off quick and dirty,” Nicky whispers into his ear, and oh _fuck_ , Joe is in trouble. “Same as we did back then. But if you keep squirming like that, I might have to sit you in my lap and fuck you after all… think they’d sleep through _that_?”

Joe knows neither Andy nor Nile would, and he gives his head a little shake and tries to hold still for Nicky. It works for all of five seconds before Nicky’s sinful fingers squeeze around his base and he’s moving again, helpless little movements between Nicky’s fully clothed groin and his hand. Nicky makes an amused noise and tilts his head back further with the hand over his mouth, and then the hand is gone and Nicky is kissing him, his tongue sliding into his mouth slick and skilled and Joe moans again, wanting that tongue on his cock, or eating him out…

Nicky rocks his hips against his ass once, letting him feel how hard he is in his jeans, and Joe nearly bites his tongue as he comes, spilling hot and wet over Nicky’s fingers.

He must white out for a moment, because when he opens his eyes again, he’s half on his back and treated to the sight of Nicky licking his fingers clean of Joe’s spend. His cock gives a twitch and Joe makes a pathetic noise in the back of his throat. Nicky smirks down at him, delicately licks his thumb clean, and leans down to kiss Joe again. Joe licks his own taste out of his lover’s mouth and tries to turn fully, reach for Nicky’s belt. Gentle hands stop him.

“Go back to sleep hayati,” Nicky murmurs against his mouth, tucking the blankets tighter around them again. He’s still hard against Joe’s ass, but he _looks_ sated, and Joe’s limbs and brain are heavy and lazy the way he tends to get after a good orgasm. He hums in agreement and snuggles back into Nicky, stealing his hand to keep it tucked against his chest. He falls asleep again to Nicky’s thumb stroking the back of his hand, sated and so in love it’s a warm sun behind his breastbone.


	3. Lisbon, Portugal

Dying is easy. Coming back to life is not. It’s as if Death takes the pound of flesh it is owed, in exchange for the life it is denied. Every return to life is paid for with bone-deep exhaustion. Repeated dying without a chance for rest in between just makes it worse, as Yusuf al-Kaysani and Nicolò di Genova discovered for themselves, long ago, on a blood-soaked battlefield before Jerusalem’s gates.

Nicky did not die, today. It could easily have been otherwise, but he got lucky. The bastard Copley sent them after hired shit bodyguards who couldn’t shoot worth a damn. They just got in a few lucky hits that bled a little before his body healed the wound. Healing, too, takes energy but not nearly as much as a death, so he’s just tired instead of keel-over, stick a fork in me I’m done exhausted. He’s still a bloody mess, but that’s nothing a shower won’t fix.

Nicky barely has time to close the door to the safehouse behind him before Joe’s on him, kissing him with the ferocity of someone who has waited far too long for something. He makes a surprised sound and clings to Joe, because that’s the kind of kiss that makes his knees go weak, but he kisses back anyway. It’s practically instinct at this point.

“Not in the hallway, boys!” comes Andy’s shout from further in the house, and Joe growls – actually _growls_ , and Nicky’s poor knees really don’t stand a chance today – and closes a strong hand around Nicky’s wrist, pulls him down the corridor.

“Keep the noise down!” Nile yells as they pass the living room. Nicky would answer, tell her to put on her damn headphones, but he doesn’t get the chance. Joe drags him into the bathroom, turns him around and pushes him against the door in one move. Nicky looks up and swallows.

Joe’s eyes are a storm of emotions: worry, love, simmering lust. His lips are already a little fuller from how hard he kissed Nicky, and it’s an unfairly hot look on him, even with the frown he wears as he reaches for Nicky’s matted hair. “How much of that blood is yours?”

“Not that much.” It’s the truth, this time. They don’t always tell each other how bad it was, the desire to spare their love’s heart equally strong, but most of the blood in his hear and dried in the fabric of his tac shirt is from everyone who was unfortunate enough to meet his sword. Their own damn fault for wearing that much Kevlar. “Help me clean up?”

Joe kisses him first, then helps him peel out of his tac gear. The water pressure here is good and the water is hot, and Joe’s talented fingers in his hair have Nicky sigh in appreciation even as he’s busy washing dried blood from his skin.

Joe kisses him again once he’s clean, and there’s hunger there now, and a need that has Nicky break the kiss and tangle his fingers in Joe’s wet curls. “Talk to me, my love.”

Joe moans softly and pulls a little against Nicky’s hold, enough to make his lids flutter. “You were using your sword,” he murmurs, peering at Nicky from beneath half-lowered lashes. “So damn hot to watch. Made me want you so badly.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is, hmm?” Nicky asks, grinning. He runs one hand down Joe’s back and grabs at his ass, press them together. There’s a growing hardness pressed against his thigh, and Nicky’s own cock twitches in interest.

“Yes,” Joe hisses. “Yes, Nicky, please…”

“Shh,” Nicky whispers against Joe’s mouth. “I’ll take care of you.”

Joe must have planned ahead, because they don’t usually stash lube in a shared shower but now he fishes a tube out of the shower caddy and offers it with a pleading look. Nicky kisses him again and holds up his hand. “Get me slicked up then,” he tells Joe. “As many as you want, because we’re not risking a fall and a broken neck with Andy and Nile just beyond the door.”

Joe snorts but doesn’t protest. He does slick up all four of Nicky’s fingers though, which tells Nicky just how badly he wants to feel the stretch. His cock gives an appreciative twitch, and the hand he still has in Joe’s hair moves to cup his head and pull him into another kiss as soon as the tube is capped and out of the way again. Joe melts into him, wrapping both arms around Nicky’s shoulders to hold on. He’s trembling with need already, and Nicky doesn’t tease as he might if they were spread out on their bed, had time and privacy. He trails his fingers down between Joe’s cheeks, rubs firm circles over his hole until Joe whimpers at him, then pushes in with one finger, slow but deep. Joe moans, but it’s quiet enough not to be heard over the rush of the water.

“That’s it,” Nicky murmurs, working his finger in and out slowly, giving Joe’s body time to adjust. He’s always so damn tight for that first entry, as if his body had never felt the stretch of Nicky’s fingers, his cock. It’s far sexier than it has any right to be. “There we go, just taking me in. You need it bad, don’t you?”

Joe nods, rubs his cheek against Nicky’s shoulder. His beard rasps against Nicky’s skin, making him shiver in turn. “More,” the love of his live breathes, and Nicky doesn’t have the strength of will to deny him. Joe hisses at the stretch of two fingers so soon, but he tilts his hips back too, so Nicky doesn’t stop to ask. Joe can stop him with a single word, a single gesture. Instead, Nicky allows himself to get lost just a little in the warm water, the noises Joe is making, the wet slide of his fingers into his beloved’s body.

Three fingers pull a groan from Joe, loud enough to echo in the shower. Nicky coaxes his head up from his shoulder and kisses him to muffle the noises, because he knows his love. Once Joe’s control on his volume breaks, he can’t be bothered to regain it. Kissing him is the easiest way to keep it down, and if it’s a turn-on in itself to have Joe suck on his tongue as if it’s his dick…well, Nicky’s not complaining.

Joe is rocking back onto his fingers by then, the movement dragging his cock against Nicky’s between their bellies, and he’s making needy, hungry sounds in between moaning into Nicky’s mouth. Nicky’s just teasing the fourth finger against his rim, flirting with pushing it in, when Joe stiffens in his arms and comes between them. Nicky has to brace himself to catch his weight as Joe slumps, but he’s practiced with that. Joe whimpers quietly when he slips his fingers free, and Nicky shushes him with another kiss.

Andy smirks at them when they shuffle past the kitchen again. Nicky cheerfully flips her off.


	4. The Mediterranean Sea, between Italy and Malta

They’d caught the last ferry for the day, a mad dash through the harbor that left them out of breath, hot and sweaty, and without a cabin for the night. Neither of them had cared – it’s so far from their first night spent out beneath the stars, it’s literally impossible to quantify. They have thin but warm blankets in their gear for emergencies which they wrapped around themselves once they settled in against the bulkhead for the duration. It’s warm and comfortable enough, they’ve certainly slept in worse accommodations over the centuries.

Now, though, with Nicky a warm weight in his arms and the state of arousal Joe has worked himself into just anticipating their two-month long stay on Malta, he wishes they did have a door to shut behind themselves. The deck isn’t really empty – the night is relatively mild, even with the constant wind of the sea, and every so often couples and single people are strolling by just far enough to be mere shadows. It’s far from ideal for what Joe really wants, but Nicky is dozing in his arms, his head resting on Joe’s shoulder, and his throat is right _there_ , bare and so tempting.

Joe holds out another five minutes before he leans forward and presses his mouth against that familiar, tender stretch of skin, sucks a bruise into it that starts to disappear as soon as he lifts his mouth away – it’s dark enough he can barely make out the shadow of it, but he’s tried again and again to leave a mark on Nicky, and they never take. Joe watches them fade every time.

Nicky makes a soft noise and shifts a little, turns so his mouth is at Joe’s ear. “Want something, my heart?”

He’s slipped into Ligurian, which tells Joe a lot about the kind of mood his lover is in. It nicely matches Joe’s mood, so he smirks and kisses the almost-faded bruise.

“You,” he says easily. “I always want you, you should really know that by now.”

Nicky snorts, amused, but he makes no move to stop Joe when he strokes his hand down to tease at the inseam of Nicky’s pants. “You can’t wait until we’re in our nice private home, with that nice door we can close behind us and that nice, sturdy bed you’ll end up tied to?”

Joe’s cock jumps eagerly in his pants, and Joe groans and tries to shift closer to Nicky, get some friction. “Cruel,” he complains with a mournful air. “The love of my life is a cruel man indeed, to tease me such and still deny me.”

Nicky’s laughter is soft and dark. “We’re very much in public and you’re incapable of being quiet, Yusuf.”

“So make me be quiet,” Joe challenges, not yet in the mood to back down. His hand glides higher and cups Nicky through his jeans, bold and familiar. Nicky hisses, and Joe chuckles his victory because he knows his lover, knows exactly where they are standing right now in the ever-changing dynamics of their relationship, knows what his teasing will result in. And right on cue, with nothing but a single squeeze to the growing bulge Nicky growls and _moves_. Joe ends up on his back on the deck, Nicky’s hands pinning his wrists above his head and his legs spread wide to accommodate Nicky’s hips. The weight of his lover adds delicious friction, and Joe can’t help but moan and arch up into it.

“We should’ve made this trip sooner, I think,” Nicky purrs into his ear, and _fuck_ his voice has dropped to that low purr. “You’re always such a little shit when you’re this hungry for me.”

It takes effort to scrape enough brain cells together for an answer because that low purr does _things_ to Joe, never mind that Nicky’s slowly rocking his weight against Joe’s dick, but he manages. “I’m really not the only one, Nico.”

It earns him a squeeze of his wrists and Nicky smirking down at him. It’s a really sexy expression on him, and if his brain wasn’t currently mostly in his pants Joe might find words to express the poetry in his soul for it. As it is, _really sexy_ has to be enough. It also should have been a warning, but that just proves Joe is not thinking with his upstairs brain right now.

Nicky rolls them again, tucks Joe between himself and the bulkhead and presses a thigh up between Joe’s legs. His strong fingers stay wrapped around Joe’s wrists, keep them pinned above his head, and Joe arches into him and moans as Nicky’s thigh provides friction against his needy cock. “Fuck yes,” he manages.

"Go ahead,” Nicky tells him, voice still that low, commanding purr. “Ride my thigh baby, let me watch you come like this.”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Joe’s brain has officially given up, melted into a gooey glop in his skull and ceded control to his cock. He somehow finds the leverage to do as Nicky told him, rocks his hips against his husband’s muscular thigh. Nicky’s free hand strokes up over his belly and starts playing with his nipples, stroking and tugging and pinching them. And then, when he’s already breathless and on edge, Nicky fucking _cheats_ , ducks his head and nips and kisses at Joe’s throat, just beneath the line of his beard, and Joe can’t stop the groan from breaking free.

Nicky’s laughter vibrates through him, and Joe moans – and then he whimpers because Nicky’s palm is pressed over his mouth.

“I knew you couldn’t keep quiet,” Nicky murmurs by his ear, hitching his thigh a little higher. Joe whimpers against the muffling palm. “All these years and you’re always such a noisy thing. Do you want everybody to see how good you are for me, amore mio? Do you want them to watch as I take you apart?”

Joe moans louder, muffled by Nicky’s hand as his cock jumps in his pants. Nicky’s low purr and the _ideas_ the man puts in his head… Joe’s hips move faster, and Nicky keeps murmuring filth into his ear, a steady stream of what he’d like to do to Joe in front of an audience, and Joe clings to him – barely notices his hands are free – almost feels the gazes of an appreciative audience on his skin, if he closes his eyes – “…nobody touches you but _me_ ,” Nicky purrs, punctuating it with a particularly vicious pinch to one nipple, and Joe sobs out his orgasm against Nicky’s palm, shivering and helpless to do anything but cling to him and ride it out.

Nicky tucks him in between the bulkhead and his own body, pulls the blankets over them and strokes Joe’s back as he catches his breath, slow and gentle movements of his hand beneath Joe’s shirt. Joe falls asleep like that, his nose tucked into Nicky’s neck.

His last conscious thought is that maybe it’s time to hit the club scene again.


	5. Venice, Italy

Nicky wakes up slowly, lazily. Being in a safe location does that to him, allows him to not jerk awake at the slightest provocation. Their Venice safehouse is one of those locations, and he was exhausted when he went to sleep last night, Joe’s familiar warmth at his back.

It’s probably why he wakes up to two of Joe’s fingers in his hole, Joe’s mouth hot on the skin of his throat. Nicky digs his fingers into the sheets and bites back the moan that wants to escape. “Good morning,” he says when he thinks his voice sounds almost normal. “Want something?”

“I always want you,” Joe tells him, and the grin is obvious in his voice. His fingers push deep and twist, and Nicky’s whole body feels hot on the wave of need that simple move sends down his spine.

“Fuck,” he offers, breathless already. Joe does that to him on a regular basis, steals his breath with how gorgeous he is, how kind, how much he loves him… how well he knows Nicky’s body. His artist’s fingers rub a firm caress over his sweet spot, and Nicky bites his pillow to keep his moan quiet. Booker and Andy are probably still asleep, just a couple of thin walls away.

“I woke up and you were all warm and relaxed next to me,” Joe murmurs against his ear, his fingers never slowing. “Couldn’t resist.”

“I can – ah! – I can tell,” Nick gasps out, shifting to give Joe more room. “Do you have plans for me, my love?”

“Nothing definite.” There are more of those soft, sucking kisses to his throat, and Nicky tilts his head back to give Joe better access there, too. “I was going to see how many fingers you’d need before you woke up… then see what you are in the mood for.”

The fingers finally slow, pushed deep into Nicky as Joe concentrates on sucking a short-lived mark into his neck. Nicky moans for him, soft and quiet, and when Joe releases his throat he peers over his shoulder. “I want to see you,” he murmurs. “Give me one more, hmmm? I want to just sink down onto you.”

Joe’s eyes darken. “Everything you want,” he agrees, and well, in that case…

“Kiss me,” Nicky says because Joe’s kisses, still a little lazy with sleep, are too good to pass on. The skin around Joe’s eyes crinkles with his smile, and he kisses Nicky slow and deep and when he’s distracted, his husband nudges that third finger against his hole and slides them in. Nicky probably loses a few brain cells to the slow stretch, digs his fingers into the bedding. Joe sucks on his lower lip for a moment, then licks back into his mouth and his fingers slide in deep, work him open with tender patience. Nicky almost decides that no, he really wants to stay like this, let Joe fuck him slow and lazy and maybe fall back asleep after… but he wants to see him more, and Joe is beautiful when he’s got Nicky in his lap. Joe is beautiful any given time in Nicky’s admittedly biased opinion, but there’s something about him when they’re like that, something Nicky can’t put in words. He’s not the poet in this relationship.

They don’t need words, not after all the centuries spent side by side. Joe pulls his fingers free and rolls onto his back, Nicky stretches (enjoys the appreciative sound Joe makes) and crawls on top of him. Joe’s hands are warm on his hips, warmer than the early-morning chill of the air, and his cock is a brand against Nicky’s palm as he closes his hand around him, holds him in position.

The first slide down has them both hiss in shared pleasure.

Nicky takes a moment to enjoy feeling Joe so deep and hot inside his body, holding still and just breathing. Joe’s hands stroke up and down his thighs, his eyes so dark where they watch him, and Nicky can’t help it. He bends forward – moans at the change in angle – and kisses his beloved.

“How do you want me?” he asks against Joe’s mouth, close enough they share breath. “I’m yours, my heart.”

Joe kisses him again, slow and sweet as if he’s not buried in Nicky’s ass. “Slowly,” he decides. “Let me watch you, Nico.”

So Nicky does just that, moves slow and lazy on Joe’s cock and lets him watch his fill. He knows how he looks, flushed and hard, muscles shifting under his skin as he moves. It’s a sight he admires every time he has Joe in this position.

Their slow, lazy rhythm holds until Joe shifts a little as Nicky slides down, and the change in angle drags Joe’s cock along his prostate again. Nicky hisses a curse and his nails dig into Joe’s chest with the sudden spike of lust, and Joe growls at him.

Nicky’s body and instincts are long used to moving with Joe, which is how he ends up on his back on their bed, legs spread wide around Joe’s hips. He has enough time to look up into Joe’s face and realize what’s about to happen before Joe pushes back in, hard and fast, secure in the knowledge Nicky can take it. Nicky does, arches up into Joe because he can’t _not_. There’s just enough of a hint of too-fast-too-tight that sparks along his nerves, and then Joe’s moving.

Nicky clings to the dregs of his control by his fingernails – the same fingernails he’s digging into Joe’s shoulders, leaving marks that heal over instantly – as the lust that had been simmering is stoked to burning. Joe’s moans are rising in volume, and he wouldn’t give a fuck but he’s not in the mood to endure barely-veiled insults all day in Venice of all places. Nicky buries one hand in Joe’s hair, glad he’s growing it out again, and drags his head down until he can kiss him.

It doesn’t take long, from there. All the teasing, Joe’s fingers in him until he felt open and slippery and sensitive, and now being bent nearly in half as Joe takes him hard and unrelenting, his dick hitting Nicky’s prostate every other thrust… Nicky moans into their kiss and spills over his belly in minutes, not even a touch to his cock needed. Joe groans into his mouth and fucks him through it, and Nicky digs the fingers of his free hand into Joe’s ass when he tries to pull back once Nicky’s body relaxes. He doesn’t break the kiss, sucks on Joe’s tongue greedily. _Go on, keep fucking me, I’m good, I want you to come inside me, fill me up…_

They don’t need the words. Joe makes a wounded sound and his thrusts lose their rhythm, go wild and rough as he chases his own release. Nicky keeps kissing him, holds his head in place with his fingers in Joe’s hair and digs his nails into Joe’s ass and his cock gives a valiant twitch when Joe finally groans and pins him to the bed and stiffens with his release.

Nicky catches him as he collapses, wraps his arms around him as Joe’s forehead falls to his shoulder. They’re both panting for breath for a while.

There are no words needed, but Nicky still turns his head to murmur into Joe’s ear.

“Think we can slip out for breakfast?”

Joe hums and kisses his shoulder. “We’ll leave a note.”


	6. London, England

It’s a petty thing to do, in a way, but Nicky is currently all out of fucks to give.

They have held themselves back for so long, not just in bed but in their daily lives, all for the sake of a man who betrayed them for his jealousy, anyways.

Nicky’s skin aches for every touch Joe held back over the centuries, his lips yearn for every kiss they didn’t share when Booker was in the room. They didn’t want to deepen his pain by reminding him of his losses. With that courtesy thrown into their faces in the worst way possible, Nicky feels no compulsion to keep it up any longer.

He _needs_ this, too, needs to feel Joe alive and well beneath his hands, needs to taste the fury that still darkens those lovely eyes.

Joe doesn’t protest being slammed against their bedroom door as soon as it is closed, just reaches for Nicky and all but yanks him close. Their kiss is a clash of teeth and tongue, and someone’s lip splits and adds the sharp taste of iron for the second it takes for the wound to heal.

Joe bites a trail of sharp little pains along Nicky’s jaw, to his ear. His teeth tug on the lobe. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice rough and hungry. Nicky shivers and crowds closer, his hands clawed into the fabric of Joe’s shirt.

“You,” he says, and his voice is just as hungry, just as rough. “Fuck, Yusuf… stop me if…”

“Yes,” Joe agrees, his hands already pulling on Nicky’s shirt. “You know I will, wreck me, come on,” and that’s all the invitation Nicky needs to drop to his knees right then and there, between Joe’s boots. Joe curses in five or six different languages – Nicky’s not really paying attention, his hands busy with pulling open belt and button and zipper. Joe’s hands come down to help push down his pants and boxer-briefs in one go, and he’s already visibly interested. Nicky licks his lips once, glances up. “Don’t hold back,” he says, “you can pay me back later,” and barely waits for Joe to gasp out a confirmation (well, it’s more “Oh _fuck_ Nicky!” but it’s enough) before he takes Joe’s half-hard cock into his mouth.

Joe’s head hits the door with an audible _thump_.

Nicky has done this so many times over the centuries, he’s more than lost count. He still loves it, loves the weight and the taste on his tongue, loves how Joe’s fingers will bury themselves in his hair and the filthy encouragement that drops from his lips when Nicky gives him a hint of teeth. He pulls out all his best tricks now, sucks sloppily until Joe’s cock is hard in his mouth and his fingers are buried in Nicky’s hair. He pulls off then, licks at the shaft and teases his tongue along the pale line where Joe’s foreskin used to be attached once upon a time. It’s always been strangely sensitive to his touch, and Joe curses above him and his dick twitches. Nicky smirks and takes him back in, bobs his head and flattens his tongue as he moves. He’s sloppy, spit sliding down Joe’s cock and his chin, but he doesn’t care. Good sex is messy, and this is good. Joe’s taste fills his mouth, his scent fills his nose, his hips are warm and _there_ under Nicky’s hands.

Nicky peers up through his lashes, sees Joe stare down at him, panting and wide-eyed, and he’d smirk if his lips weren’t stretched around Joe’s cock. He’s careful as he gives Joe a hint of his teeth on the next upward slide, and Joe’s “Fuck, Nico!” isn't exactly quiet, but it’s also not as loud as Nicky knows he can get. He pulls off to give his jaw a short break, licks over the head and moans at the taste. Joe’s echoing moan is still hanging in the air when he’s diving back in, and he shifts a little and relaxes his throat, and Joe is back to cursing as he slides in all the way until Nicky’s nose is brushing his belly, lips snug around the base of his cock. Nicky would moan if he could, and his own cock throbs in his pants.

He pulls back when breathing becomes a need rather than a desire, sucks in a breath through his nose and tugs on Joe’s hips. _Come on, fuck my mouth, we both know you want to_.

Joe’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Nicky braces himself against the door and closes his eyes as his husband does just that, thrusts his cock into Nicky’ willing mouth over and over. Moans and filthy encouragement fall from his lips in equal measure and a wild mix of languages, “fuck yes so good Nico your mouth, so hot seeing you like that… so good at sucking me, you’re made for this aren’t you, you’re made for me…” and all Nicky can do is moan in agreement and suck on the hard flesh sliding past his lips. Joe’s filthy monologue dries up in favor of Nicky’s name and noises that sound as if Nicky dragged them out of him, and he doesn’t need Joe’s warning gasp of “close,” to know he’s about to have his husband come down his throat. Joe’s body has betrayed him already, the tightening of his fingers in Nicky’s hair, the stutter to his rhythm, the trembling of his thighs. Nicky moans and sucks harder and earns a half-strangled yell of “Fuck!” for his efforts, along with a rush of salty-bitter over his tongue. He gentles himself, strokes his hands up Joe’s thighs as his husband sags back against the door. He cleans him up with soft licks until Joe hisses, oversensitive, then sits back on his haunches to look up at Joe.

“Feel wrecked yet?” he asks, smirking at the rasp of his voice. He sounds used, and he knows what that does to Joe. Predictably, his beloved curses again.

“I feel it, you look it,” Joe tells him. “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t pull every trick in the book to make me scream, you bastard.”

Nicky doesn’t try to go for innocent, Joe knows him far too well. He shrugs and leans back, makes sure his pants stretch nicely over his obvious erection. “Want to make me scream too?” he asks, and it’s still a rush to have Joe’s eyes on him, to see the obvious interest in his expression just a minute after he’s come down Nicky’s throat.

It seems Joe is as much out of fucks as Nicky is, because his husband pulls up his pants far enough to be able to walk, and steps past Nicky and further into their room. “I think I will,” he says, and he must be aware of Nicky watching him as he sheds his leather jacket and shirt. “Get naked and get up on the bed, hayati. Put that pretty ass in the air, I find that I have plans for you.”

Nicky revels in the shiver that runs down his spine as he hurries to comply. Joe in a toppy mood as a guarantee for a good time, and considering the shit they just went through? Nicky thinks they earned that fair and square.

Needless to say, he does scream. He challenges anyone not to, with Joe eating them out.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make an author's day <3


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